


Shivers

by ladyoneill



Series: Lady O's Teen Wolf Bingo Stories [46]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, F/M, Hypothermia, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-21 02:37:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1534508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyoneill/pseuds/ladyoneill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for the Cotton Candy prompt: inclement weather.  Might be a little too angsty but there's sweetness, too.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Shivers

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Cotton Candy prompt: inclement weather. Might be a little too angsty but there's sweetness, too.

Standing at the living room window staring out into the world of white, Stiles bit his lip nervously as he listened to the ringing on the other end of his phone. The land line was down, but his cell was still working. Now if his dad would just...

"Stiles?"

Relief flooded him. "Dad, you okay?"

"I'm fine. I'm at the scene of an accident. No one's hurt," he added quickly. "Just a couple cars off the road. Stiles, are you home?"

"Yeah, dad, not going anywhere." The hope that his dad was safely at the station dashed, he was worried again. "Dad, it's blinding out there."

His dad sighed softly. "Stiles, you know this is my job. I'll be fine. I'll call every hour okay?"

Helplessly, Stiles nodded and muttered, "Okay, yeah, be safe."

"Stay at home."

"I'm not going anywhere. The land line's dead, but power's still on so I'll keep my phone on the charger. Dad, just...this isn't natural."

"Yeah, I figured that. Beacon Hills gets a couple dustings of snow a year not a blizzard that dumps a foot in two hours."

"We're looking into it."

"You be safe," his dad admonished. "And I have to go. Love you."

"Love you, too."

His dad hung up first and letting the drape fall, Stiles went upstairs to fetch his charger and laptop. For some reason he felt safer downstairs. The howling wind was louder in his bedroom and made the upper storey shake.

Supernatural blizzards, great.

As he plugged in his phone, there was suddenly a loud thud against the front door and the breath caught in his throat. What the Hell? Starting towards the door, he stopped, because, with his luck, it was the abominable snowman come to eat him.

Then the bell rang and, figuring abominables wouldn't do that, he walked to the door and carefully opened it. It nearly blew into his face,and with a blast of snow and icy cold wind a figure tumbled against him.

Wrapped in a fashionable green coat with ridiculous high heeled boots on her feet, Lydia clung to him, shivering badly. Grabbing her into his chest with one arm, he managed to get the door closed and locked, then half carried, half dragged her into the living room. She was covered in snow, wet and ice cold, her cheeks bright red and chapped. Her fingers clad only in elegant and useless leather gloves were barely able to hold onto him.

"Jesus, Lydia, what...?"

"I was..." Her teeth were chattering so loudly, he could barely understand her. "Power died at home, phone dead. Figured it out."

"Did you walk here?" he yelled.

Even though she looked half-frozen she managed to glare at him. "Of course not. I drove and got stuck two blocks away. Then I walked." Her voice died away and from under frozen lashes she blinked up at him. "Stiles, I don't feel..."

Lydia's eyes rolled back in her head and she collapsed limply against him. Startled, Stiles caught her, but she took them both to the floor.

"No...no, Lydia, wake up!" Rolling her onto her back, he started to strip her of the wet coat and gloves. Her skin felt like ice and her cheeks were going from red to blue dramatically. Terrified, he bent over and listened for her breathing. It was shallow, but there. She wasn't shivering anymore, though.

That was bad.

He needed to get her warm. Warm and dry. Hating to leave her for even a minute, Stiles dashed up the stairs and grabbed the blankets off his bed, then a couple of towels from the linen closet, before nearly tripping his way back down the stairs. Colliding off the wall actually brought him out of his panic, and he took a steadying breath and returned to her side. Another quick check told him she was still breathing and he took her pulse. It was slow yet steady.

Starting at her feet, he pulled off the stupid boots, tossing them over his shoulder. Her skirt was next and then he peeled her ice-crusted tights down her legs. Checking her toes he was relieved to find them the right color, though they were very cold. He wrapped a blanket around her lower half, then propped her up to pull her damp sweater over her head. A part of him realized she was wearing matching purple panties and bra, but mostly he was focused on getting her warm. Her hair was soaked because, God forbid she flatten it with a hat, and he used a towel to squeeze out as much of the moisture as he could, the wrapped a dry one around her head.

Laying her back down, he stuck one of the couch throw pillows under her head then covered her with his other blanket, tucking it around her, but...

Her lips were turning blue.

"Jesus, no, no..."

Digging his fingers into his hair, Stiles tried to think of what to do. Bouncing to his feet, he ran to the thermostat and turned it up, wishing they had a fireplace and a roaring fire. He dithered for a minute, then scooped her up and sat down on the couch, cradling her on his lap. Her cheek fell against his and it was so cold.

"Lydia, please," he whimpered, but there was no response. His hands roamed over her body wrapped in the blankets, trying to get her warmer, trying to do something to help. He was a minute from a panic attack when he took another steadying breath and slid her from his lap to the couch. Rising to his feet, he kicked off his shoes and stripped off his shirts and jeans, then, in only boxers, he peeled back the blankets enough to slip beneath them and wrap his arms and legs around her cold body. "Don't kill me, okay?"

Burying his nose in her neck, feeling her pulse there, Stiles closed his eyes and silently prayed.

Time passed as he listened to her breathing along with the loud wind outside and the snow and sleet hitting the house, but, slowly Lydia grew warmer and her pulse quickened. A shudder went through her and a whimper broke from her.

Lifting his head, hope catching the breath in his throat, Stiles watched her eyes flutter open and fill with confusion.

"Lydia?"

"Stiles?" Her teeth chattered again and she was shivering. That was good. He held her closer, his sock covered feet rubbing against her bare ones, his body heat warming her slowly.

"You passed out and you were so cold."

"Still...cold," she forced out as she buried her face in his chest beneath the blanket. "Are we naked?"

Grinning over her towel-covered head, Stiles just rocked her and rubbed her back, as he wondered how old the cans of soup in the pantry were. She needed something light but hot to warm her insides. Tea, too. He knew he had that. On finding out all they had was bad coffee and bottles of Gatorade, Lydia had given him a supply of teas for her use during all night supernatural research sessions.

His phone rang--had it been an hour?--and he scrabbled over his head for it on the end table, dragging it to his ear as Lydia grumbled about the loss of one of his warm hands. "Dad?"

"Stiles, we found Lydia's car a couple blocks from the house. Please tell me she's with you."

"Yeah, she's okay. Really cold."

"Thank God," his dad breathed a sigh of relief. "Keep her at the house, okay? Neither of you try to leave, I don't care if you do figure out what's causing this. It's bad out here."

"Yeah, no, we'll stay put."

"It's a frost sprite," Lydia muttered. "I need to do more research on how to kill it and..." She yawned and shivered again.

"Dad, I gotta go make some soup and tea. Please be careful. We'll sic the pack on this thing when we figure out how to take it out, but we won't leave, I promise."

For once, Stiles was sure he wouldn't join in the battle, because...He couldn't leave Lydia. After another admonishment to his dad to be careful, he hung up and slid his arm under the blanket and around her again. More awake and aware, Lydia pulled her head up to look at him.

"Research, Stiles, and clothes, and soup and tea sounds good."

"Now that sounds more like the Lydia I know and love," he replied lightly and slipped off the couch, shivering himself even though the room was a bit warmer. He clambered into his clothes and as he pulled his head through the neckhole of his henley, he caught her watching him, a smirk on her face, and blushed, which made her grin.

"Demon woman," he muttered, but felt such relief that he ended up laughing as he headed up to get her some sweats and socks to wear.

End


End file.
